


See what I mean

by Builder



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Avocados at Law, Fever, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Karen hovers, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Karen is helpful, that's not a question.  Sometimes Karen hovers.  Sometimes that's exactly what Matt needs.





	See what I mean

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

Matt’s so tired that when he pushes open the office door, he doesn’t notice Karen standing silently in the entryway.  He’d gotten home around 1am, sweaty and rain-damp.  Five-odd hours of sleep hadn’t been enough to nullify his headache, and now, as a stack of papers flutters to the floor at his feet, Matt’s reminded of the persistent pain behind his forehead.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” Karen says, dropping to her knees to scoop up the files.  “I started reading as soon as I pulled them off the printer.”  She pauses before getting back to her feet.  “You’re so sneaky, Matt.  Like a ninja.”

“Hm.”  Matt forces a laugh.  “Just a lawyer,” he murmurs, stepping toward his office.  

“Can I get you some coffee?” Karen calls after him.  

Matt hesitates.  He needs the caffeine badly, but the pressure in his sinuses is one tick from nausea.  “Do we have tea?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Karen plugs in the electric kettle, then rustles pages again as she waits for the water to boil.  

A few minutes later, she comes in with the steaming mug.  “There you go.”  She sets it on the corner of Matt’s desk, along with a stack of papers that smells like Ceylon and knockoff Daisy Eau So Fresh.  Matt tries not to grit his teeth.

“What’s the case?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“The case that you’re so eagerly reading up on.”  Matt reaches for his tea.  As soon as he wraps his hands around the mug, sweat prickles across his forehead and upper lip.  He quickly sets it back down.

“A wrongful death,” Karen says brightly.  “I know it’s not a happy thing, but it looks really promising.  A rich guy, too.  Alleging nursing home abuse against his mother.”

“Yeah.  Promising,” Matt echoes.  Sourness leaches over the back of his tongue.  He snatches his tea up again and takes a sip, hoping to swallow down the urge to throw up.

The tea is too hot, and Matt barely gets the mug back to the table before he has to cough.  Vertigo explodes around his head as his diaphragm spasms.  He presses one hand to his chest and holds the other over his mouth.

“Are you ok?”  Karen slaps him on the back.

Matt tries to nod, but his throat goes into contraction and his jaw goes heavy and numb.  He jumps to his feet and pushes Karen out of the way as he stumbles headlong toward the bathroom.

“Matt?”  Karen sounds like she’s in a wind tunnel, not standing worriedly in the doorway as Matt heaves over the toilet.

“I’m fine,” Matt grunts, letting saliva run down his chin as he waits for his head to stop spinning.  

“Was it the tea?  It was a fresh bag.  And I don’t think we’ve had it that long…”

“Karen,” Matt coughs.  He swallows hard.  “I said I’m fine.”  He tries to sit back on his heels, but as soon as he moves, his stomach rises through his chest and he retches hard again.

“Oh no.”  Karen drops to her knees at Matt’s shoulder.  She pats him on the back, then reaches over his head to unwind a length of toilet paper.  “Here.  If you want to wipe your mouth.”  

Matt’s still spitting.  “Yeah,” he manages.  “Just a sec.”

“Do you want me to call Foggy?  Or a cab?”

“I’m ok, Karen,” Matt breathes.  

“No, you’re not.”

Matt wipes a drip from the end of his nose.  His thoughts flick to the mucous coating his throat, and it’s all he can do to avoid gagging again.  “Ok,” he sighs.  “I…feel like shit.”

Karen’s slender fingers appear under Matt’s jaw.  He brings up his arm to block her on instinct.

“Hey, I just wanted to see if you have a fever!”

“I’m sorry.”  Matt scrubs his hands over his face.  “Just…jumpy I guess.”

“It’s ok.  You’re really warm,” Karen says.  “You’re probably not thinking straight.”

Matt doesn’t reply.  He’s busy breathing away nausea again.

“Can I help you get back to your office?  Then I can call Foggy for you.”  Karen grasps Matt under the arms and lifts.  Her weight isn’t enough to move him, but the action catches him off guard.  He belches sickly and scrambles to get back over the commode.

“Hold up,” Matt croaks.

“Sorry, Matt, I didn’t think…”

“It’s ok—” Matt cuts himself off with a heave.

Karen makes a sympathetic sound.

“I, uh…”  Matt rests his elbows on the toilet seat.  “I think I’ll stay here for a minute.”

“Whatever you need.”  Karen pats his arm.  “I’m here for you.”


End file.
